


Radiance

by Kitkatkimble



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Stardust AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatkimble/pseuds/Kitkatkimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a tale.</p><p>This is to be expected. There are always tales, because that is how people are remembered. ‘Ils couchent ensemble dans les étoiles’ and all that. People will always try to weave a story.</p><p>This tale is about the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilikeyoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyoshi/gifts).



> This is very heavily based on Neil Gaiman's 'Stardust', which is a beautiful book and the movie adaptation is marvellous. Please do yourself a favour and read it.

There is a tale.

This is to be expected. There are always tales, because that is how people are remembered. ‘ _Ils couchent ensemble dans les étoiles’_ and all that. People will always try to weave a story.

This tale is about the stars.

Once upon a time, many centuries ago, there lived a prince. It is always a prince, because people enjoy hearing about princes. And this prince was quite a prince indeed.

His name was Wrathion.

He was the third son of King Neltharion. Neltharion was an evil man – there is always an evil man in stories – and coveted power like gems. His castle was made of black rock and his throne made of glass. I’ve heard rumour that he had alien creations squirrelled away in his dungeons, alongside technical monstrosities of iron and adamantine.

Wrathion was the third son, fourth child, and overshadowed by his siblings.

One evening, when the sun had set and Elune had risen into the sky, Neltharion called his children to his side.

There was the eldest, Nefarian. He was known as the Cunning. Wrathion had watched him level cities with his alchemical weapons, and found him dull.

Onyxia was Neltharion’s only daughter, and she was called the Patient. She was a powerful politician in her own right, and Wrathion knew she would likely gain the crown if the decision were made through politics.

Next was Sabellian the Quiet, who kept to himself and made little fuss. He was quick and clever, but reserved, and lived farther away than any of Wrathion’s siblings; he was surprised to see him here at all.

And then there was Wrathion. He was simply known as the Young.

He didn’t appreciate it, but he appreciated the power it gave him. No one looked twice at the smallest sibling.

“My children,” said Neltharion. It was not a fond statement. “I am dying.”

There was not a reaction among the four. Wrathion, certainly, already knew this. He was the one who had been slowly poisoning him, after all.

“One of you must succeed the throne.” He looked between them, and his eyes rested on Wrathion with more knowledge than he shared.

Sabellian stepped back, then turned, and without a further word he left the room.

Then there were three.

Onyxia and Nefarian shared a glance, then looked back at the aged king. “It will not be Sabellian, then,” Onyxia said, the barest trace of satisfaction in her voice.

“My successor will be whomever retrieves this.” Here, Neltharion paused, and withdrew a beautiful blood ruby from a chain around his neck. He held it up for the three siblings to see.

This ruby was unlike any other. It contained the power to warp the earth itself, for good or for ill – and in Neltharion’s hands, it had indeed caused ill. It was also famed for its ability to transport the bearer to wherever they pleased. This was how Neltharion had gained the crown in the first place.

It glittered and sparkled in the candlelight.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, Neltharion tossed it into the air. It hung there, just long enough for Onyxia to reach out, before it shot off through the window and into the night sky.

“May the best royal win,” he said with a final mocking laugh, and then he breathed his last.

Now, you understand, I do not tell this story because I enjoy it. Stories are not told for enjoyment, although that is indeed part of it – and enjoy it I do. But I tell you this because unlike his siblings, Wrathion was different, and this story is about _why._

The three siblings watched each other, for the longest second any of them had experienced, then burst into motion.

Nefarian, the Cunning, had noted the ruby’s path, and headed towards the observatory to calculate the route it took.

Onyxia, the Patient, strolled to her rooms and decided to wait. When one of her brothers returned with the ruby, she would kill them, and then take it for herself.

Wrathion, the Young, straightened his turban and left for the city.

Stormwind City was a marvellous place. All peoples mingled there, and despite their king being a tyrannical despot, the city struggled on. Pennants flew in the breeze, and the sounds of a flute could be heard through the bustle of trade.

Rumours were already flying. Stories of comets and falling stars and the king’s death had already spread. Wrathion smiled, and bought himself a horse.

He took only two guards with him. They were called Left and Right, and strictly speaking, neither of them were guards. Left was a fletcher, and Right a blacksmith. Wrathion did not trust his siblings not to bribe the palace guards to betray him.

The ruby had fallen to the west, the public agreed. How far, no one could tell. That was Wrathion’s job.

They rode far and fast, passing through forest and savannah and jungle before arriving at the foot of a road known only as the Path of a Hundred Steps.

“Watch for my brother,” Wrathion said, and slipped from his horse.

As he climbed higher and higher, the mists around him drew closer, and he found it hard to breathe.

On the hundredth step, he emerged at a plateau – or what had once been one. It was now a small crater, and in the centre sat a boy.

“Who are you?” Wrathion asked, skidding down the sides of the crater.

The boy looked up at him. He would have been pretty, Wrathion thought, if he hadn’t been scowling. “Who are _you_?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

I take artistic liberties here, as no one is terribly sure what conversation passed between them. But they were two young adults who were surprised and hurt, and there is no accounting for taste.

“My name is Prince Wrathion,” he said, “and I am looking for a jewel, not a child.”

The boy scowled harder. “You’re not exactly old yourself. I’m certainly older than you.”

There was a glint at the boy’s throat. Wrathion narrowed his eyes.

“What is that?” he asked, and pointed.

The boy looked down and held up a necklace with a burning red stone in the centre. “This great ugly thing? I don’t know. All I know is that I was peacefully shining away, minding my own business, and this great lump of rock came and shot me out of the sky!”

Wrathion frowned. “I’m sorry? It…”

He tilted his head. There were stories about the stars, as there always have been, and one was resonating in his mind.

“Are you a star?”

The boy threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Obviously! What, do you people normally sit around in craters waiting for idiot princes to find you?”

“I need that gem.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to give it to you.”

Wrathion huffed and stomped a foot. “Listen, if you give me that necklace, I’ll find some way to return you to the sky, alright? Besides, you’re not in a position to be bargaining here.”

“I will give it to you just before I leave,” the boy decided. “I don’t trust you.”

“You are wise not to.”

Wrathion moved forward to help the boy up. It seemed he had some sort of leg injury, but he stubbornly refused aid. Wrathion did not press the issue.

“What is your name?”

“Anduin,” said the star, scowl softening marginally. “My name is Anduin.”

They made it down the Path of a Hundred Steps slowly, and with great effort. Anduin was limping very heavily, and there was blood staining the leg of his white pants.

When they reached the base, Wrathion helped Anduin up onto the horse, and walked beside. Left and Right kept guard, their crossbows at the ready.

Night fell, as it is wont to do. Anduin lost some of his standoffishness, and Wrathion watched him curiously. He had never met a star. The tales had never seemed true, but as he saw the faint shimmering light that surrounded Anduin when he watched the sky, Wrathion began to believe them.

Anduin seemed tired during most of the day, and their travelling gradually shifted to accommodate this. Even with the bright sunlight, though, Anduin still managed to fall asleep on the horse once or twice. Wrathion couldn’t understand it.

They talked a great deal. Wrathion enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and slowly Anduin warmed to him. As they travelled, back through jungle and savannah and forest, Wrathion realised that perhaps Anduin wasn’t as rude as he had initially believed.

One afternoon, as they were crossing the great Duskfall River, Right let out a cry.

“Nefarian approaches!”

Within a heartbeat, Wrathion swung himself up onto the horse behind Anduin. “Make haste!”

Left and Right peeled off, keeping an eye out for Nefarian’s own guards. Anduin turned in his seat, looking past Wrathion to the horizon.

“Who is he?”

“He is my brother,” Wrathion said, “and I hope you never meet him.”

Yet luck was not on their side. They followed the river until it turned, but Nefarian’s horses were fast, and they could not outrun him.

Nefarian was alone, his guards being herded away by Left and Right. He had a deadly rapier by his side, and a crown of fiery gemstones at his temple. Wrathion dropped from the horse and drew his polearm as Nefarian slowly dismounted.

“I suppose this is two birds with one stone,” he said with a dark smile.

Their blades met with a harsh clatter, and they fought in earnest. Nefarian was clever, and knew precisely where to strike. Wrathion was determined, and shrugged off the glancing blows.

It was an equal match.

Nefarian swept his rapier out, causing Wrathion to leap back to avoid the blow. But as they separated, and before Wrathion had a chance to throw himself back into the fight, an arrow shaft shot between them and protruded from Nefarian’s collarbone.

Wrathion didn’t waste the opportunity. He leapt, and he twirled the polearm.

Nefarian’s head lay on the ground.

Wrathion turned, looking at Anduin in surprise. Anduin had one of Right’s bows in one hand and a handful of half-fletched arrows in the other, and he met Wrathion’s gaze with a defensive look of his own.

“I watched Right practice,” he said. “I was trying to aim for his arm.”

“You missed,” Wrathion said, and shook his head. “But I appear to be in your debt.”

Anduin grimaced. “I refuse.”

“Nonetheless. My life is yours.”

One down, one to go.

Left and Right did not return. They waited two days and two nights, but Wrathion eventually had to assume the worst, and they continued on.

They next encountered Captain Fahrad, a rogue and a pirate with a fierce temper. He piloted a skyship known as _Lady Nyx,_ and when Wrathion asked for passage, he roared with laughter and then pretended to toss them both overboard.

A day later, when they stopped in Sentinel Post, Fahrad’s long-lost nephew and said nephew’s fiancé were paying passengers.

“It’s about the reputation,” Fahrad explained over dinner one night. “I do a lot for my reputation, and I wouldn’t want to lose it over two lost boys. Too much effort put into nothing.”

It was a brief respite. Fahrad’s crew were animated and ridiculous, and Wrathion enjoyed himself immensely as he sparred with them. Anduin, who had little skill with melee weapons and didn’t enjoy their use, occupied himself by having Fahrad teach him how to dance. Even with his bad leg, he wasn’t half bad.

“You may want to watch out,” Fahrad had whispered one evening, as they were dancing beneath the stars to a cheerful tune on the fiddle. “You’re glowing.”

Anduin pulled back, eyes wide, and Fahrad winked.

A minute later, Wrathion stepped forward, and asked, “Can you dance?”

Anduin smiled brilliantly, and extended his hand. “Can you?”

If he had been glowing when he danced with Fahrad, he was shimmering as Wrathion spun him around the deck.

They said goodbye at Stormwind Harbour, and Fahrad waved them out with fond smiles and a whispered message for Anduin. Wrathion pretended not to notice.

Stormwind City was quiet when they rode through the gates. There were few travellers and fewer merchants, and even the innkeeper seemed reluctant to do business. Onyxia had been busy in their absence, it appeared, and had begun to rule the city herself.

Wrathion ranted and raged, in the privacy of a shared room, and Anduin listened with amusement. It seemed there was a bounty on Wrathion’s head. Ridiculous turban and all.

They shut the curtains, and Wrathion turned to Anduin.

“You no longer fall asleep during the day.”

Anduin shrugged, and smiled. He was glowing, involuntarily and beautifully. “I suppose I have other things keeping me awake.”

That night, as Wrathion watched Anduin sleep, he wondered.

He had not forgotten that what Anduin most wanted was to return to the sky. He was a star, and that was where he belonged; not here with Wrathion on a lonely earth. Yet stars fell, in a cascade of brilliant light, not fly. He truly did not know how he was going to return Anduin to his home.

He sighed, and very early in the morning, while Anduin was still sleeping, he drew on his boots and his jacket and left downstairs.

“Leave a message for my companion,” he asked the doorman. “Tell him that I’m sorry, I’ve gone to find what I was searching for, and I’m going to spend the rest of my days with the person I love.”

The doorman nodded, lazily, and went back to sleep.

Wrathion searched the city throughout the morning, looking for anything that could possibly return Anduin to the skies. A Babylon candle, or an astromancer, or even a starship. Yet he found nothing.

Anduin, meanwhile, woke late. Upon finding himself alone, he descended to the taproom.

“Have you seen my friend?” he asked the doorman.

“Yes. He said he’s sorry, but he’s gone to find what he was looking for, and he’s going to spend the rest of his days with the person he loves.”

Anduin’s glow winked out, and he felt his heart shatter.

He stepped outside, arms folded around himself.

“You look lost,” said a soft voice. “Can I help you?”

He looked up to see a pretty raven haired woman in a purple dress. She had her hands linked behind her back, and her head tilted in a way that reminded him of Wrathion. “I… I’m looking for my friend.”

“I see. Oh, why, isn’t that a pretty thing?” Her gaze dropped to the jewel around his neck. “May I…?”

He held it up on its chain, and glanced between it and the woman.

“How charming. My name is Katrana.” She held out a hand. “Here, allow me to escort you. I know this city like no other.”

Anduin followed Katrana, listening as she talked about Stormwind and its people. She seemed genial enough, but there was something about her he didn’t like; something he couldn’t name.

They slowly but surely made their way up to the castle. Anduin didn’t realise it until they were walking through the hallways, too caught up in his thoughts. Katrana lead him off to a side chamber, where he saw jewels and gems abound behind glass cases, and she smiled.

“They match your necklace, don’t you think?” she asked.

“I suppose they do,” he said warily.

She shut the door and leaned against it, and he suddenly felt afraid.

There are stories about stars. Very few fall – once every hundred years, perhaps less – but those that do are beautiful and powerful. It is whispered that if one were to commit the greatest evil, and consume the heart of a star, then they will be blessed with youth and longevity beyond their years.

“I could be queen, forever,” Katrana said, and stepped forward, drawing a crystal knife from her dress. “Your heart isn’t as strong as it could be – less power, you know – but it shall have to do. All I need is the gem, after all.”

Anduin shook his head, and backed away. “Wrathion needs it. Not you.”

“Foolish child. He is long gone – he never needed it, or you.”

If Anduin’s heart had been shattered that morning, the pieces were blown away into dust by her words.

Katrana was perhaps three, four feet away from him when the door thudded open, and Wrathion stood, framed in the doorway.

“Onyxia,” he said, rage emanating from him in waves. “Step away.”

Without his consent, Anduin’s heart stirred, and his heartbeat sped.

Onyxia laughed, and waved a hand. The glass cabinet next to Wrathion shattered, sending glass across the floor and into Wrathion’s skin.

“I have been patient,” she hissed, turning to menace him instead, and Anduin darted around behind her. “I have waited, all my life, for an opportunity like this. I will not let it slip from my grip.”

Anduin skidded to a stop next to Wrathion, holding his face in his hands. His gaze darted across his features, reassuring himself that Wrathion was here and alive and well. “You – ”

“I went to find something to take you home,” Wrathion blurted out, words falling from him faster than Anduin had fallen from the sky. “I’m sorry, I thought – ”

Anduin shook his head. They had no time, not with Onyxia’s slow advance. “Hush. Close your eyes.”

“What – ”

“Just – trust me. After all, what do stars do best?”

His arms fell across Wrathion’s shoulders to cradle his neck, and he smiled.

“They shine.”

And Anduin let his heart fill, as Wrathion’s eyes slipped shut, and he exploded with the radiance that was a star in love.

When Wrathion opened his eyes again, it was to Anduin’s sparkling gaze, and a halo of light around them both.

Onyxia was gone, and all that was left of her was a handful of stardust.

And then there were none.

Wrathion pulled back, and Anduin slipped the necklace from his neck, coiling it in his palm to hold it out to him. “This is yours, now.”

The gem seemed to wink at Wrathion, and he shook his head. Reaching out, he closed Anduin’s fist, and pressed his own hand on top.

“It is ours,” he said, and then, “May I kiss you?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

Some stories have happy endings, and it is to these stories that our own belongs. Wrathion became king, and Anduin alongside him. It was together that they rebuilt the nation, and drew it away from Neltharion’s legacy of fire and towards a future of light.

They had three children, and many grandchildren, living to see even their great-grandchildren enter the world. For the heart of a star grants life, and Anduin had given his to Wrathion.

Later, much later, when Wrathion was nearing his death, he took Anduin’s hand.

“I found a way to take us home,” he said, and pressed a finger to the ruby around Anduin’s neck.

Anduin smiled, and took Wrathion’s hand, and together they made one last journey.

And even to this day, they sleep together in the stars.


End file.
